"You are not the first to tell me so," Cassandra replies dryly, rolling her eyes. Of course, the useless nobles littering the Orlesian and Nevarran courts had never described her lack of poise and elegance quite the way Sera does it, and neither had her uncle, but the underlying sentiment remains.

She gives Sera's arm a tug, trying to urge her along. "It suits well enough. It is warm and dry, and visitors rarely venture to the third floor. I have become used to the noise." Belatedly, she realizes her mistake in letting Sera knows where she sleeps, and she sighs inwardly. Time to start seeking out a new place to lay her bedroll, just in case.